Most of you don't know this, but at the end of May I tried to leave the world.

It would have worked if I didn't have second thoughts.

I'm glad I had second thoughts because things seem to be looking up for the first time in a long time.

I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, of course. Because life just doesn't "look up" for me. That is not a thing that it does.

I've started getting counseling this week. I hope it helps. I'm also getting back on antidepressants. Those will probably help.

I'm taking responsibility for myself and my life. When did I become an adult?

My parents refused to so much as come visit me when I told them. Until I got a "Christian" counselor. The only reason I would seek the advice of such a one is if I reconverted.

That hurt cuts deeper than perhaps most of the other hurts they have given me. I have scars I could put their name to that were caused by lesser hurts.

My father had supper with me the other night. Because it was his timetable, not mine. I went because I love him but nothing has changed.

I wish my life had been different. But when I look back there are so few things I'd change.

I've learned from the hurts and the pain has shaped me into who I am today. Perhaps I'm not completely happy with who I am, but I am me. If I was not shaped this way, I would be someone else.

When did I become an adult?

Anyway. Now you know.

I walked through the door
"Honey, I'm home"
I almost said

But that would have been silly
There's no one here
The fish didn't even wave his fins
(Hi Vol'jin)

And I wondered when
When will I open the door
And expect the silence?
When will I stop expecting
Love in this dark room?

Why am I so shocked in the first place?
Why does it hurt so much?
I've always been alone here
I've never walked through all three doors
And been greeted with anything except nothing

But today I walked in
And it hit me
That there is no one here to welcome me
No hugs
No "I missed you"
No kiss hello

Nothing here but me
And my stuff
I would trade all this stuff
For someone to love me
For someone to say hi when I return from work
For someone to miss me when I'm gone
For someone I can take care of
For someone to take care of me

I would give everything I have
For that

But right now I'm alone
Right now I cry tears that no one sees
Sobs that no one hears
No one to wipe them away
No one at all

Chapter 1

The border from sleeping to waking is a thin one, and Kilin came smashing through it. Leaping to his feet, he grabbed his father’s sword and rushed out the door to face the danger that had woken him head on. Or at least he would have faced it, if he had found any danger to face. Or anything at all, actually. But the forest outside his treehut home was as still and quiet as any other night. Kilin turned to go back to his interrupted rest, when he heard two things: one, the lack of crickets and other nighttime creatures, and two, a far-off crashing and shouting that seemed to be coming in his direction. Kilin perked up a little. Nobody ever came into the forest except him. That was why he had made his home here after one too many early mornings of being beaten out of a villager’s barn. No one dared venture into the trees after him, even when he crept into the village at night to raid the henhouses and vegetable gardens or scare the sheep. That last he did only rarely; he understood the villagers feared him because he was an outlander, so he tried to leave them be. Still, when they set traps for him at the edge of the forest, scaring sheep was the least he could do. He had almost fallen into that last spike pit, curse them! Losing a few eggs now and again served them right for trying to murder him.

The crashing and shouting drew nearer. He could not quite make out the words yet, so he dropped quickly to the ground and began to creep closer to the clamor. Inwardly, he snickered. “Bet the villagers are all cowering in their beds at this racket,” he thought to himself. “Serves them right. Hope it isn’t anything too dangerous, though. Waving Father’s sword around might be enough to warn them off but I’ve a feeling anybody else would just laugh at me.”

By this time he had reached the source of the commotion. A large group of armed men were smashing their way methodically through the forest. “Keep your eyes open, men!” one shouted. Kilin assumed he was their leader. “First one to find that treehut gets the largest share of the reward!” Kilin dove into the nearest tree and scrambled upward until he had put a safe distance between himself and the group of warriors. A treehut? Why would they be looking for his home? He had been over every foot of the forest for miles around the village, he knew for a fact his was the only treehut. Worse, if they continued the direction they were going, they would find it shortly. He had not made any effort to hide it, since the only people around were the villagers. He quickly rejected the idea that they had hired these men. Kilin was no more than a minor annoyance to the village, egg-stealing or no. They really only hated him for being an outlander. There was no way they would spend their carefully hoarded gold to send anyone after him, let alone outland warriors as these clearly were.

His attention snapped quickly back to the men as their leader shouted again, “Make sure you don’t lose the boy! The reward on his head is enough to make us all rich men for life!” A loud cheer greeted his words. Kilin wished he could sprout wings and fly away. A reward on his head? No, this was definitely not about a few raided chicken coops, or being outland. “Only the king has the ability to put a price on someone’s head,” he thought frantically. Then almost fell out of the tree when a dry voice answered him, “Or the gods.” That voice had been in his head! Who could possibly be in his head? “Me. Obviously.” The voice spoke again, a touch of humor coloring its tone. At the same time, something shoved Kilin in the back. He managed not to scream this time, but he did fall out of the tree. Fortunately it wasn’t a long drop and he scrambled to his feet and turned to face what had shoved him, his father’s sword held high. “Most menacing,” the voice snorted. “I approve.” Despite the words, Kilin had the feeling he was being laughed at, a feeling which only solidified as he took in the creature that was, apparently, making itself quite comfortable in his head. “A horse?” he thought in disbelief, “a bloody horse is in my bloody head?”

“Now I’m insulted,” the creature huffed into Kilin’s head. “Really, when was the last time you saw a horse that could compare to me?” Kilin had to agree as he took in the inky black being before him, jumping back another few feet when enormous black wings erupted from the creature’s back. “I take it back,” he agreed out loud. “Definitely not horse. Perhaps a demon?” he continued in his head, forgetting already that the creature could still hear him. It snorted angrily and plastered its ears back against its skull. “I’m insulted! And confused! How could you possibly not recognize a zahn when you see one! You are astonishingly ignorant for a future zahntir.”

“A what now?” Kilin was beginning to feel overwhelmed. First armed men go crashing through his forest looking for his head, now a creature that looked like a horse with, he had to admit, bloody awesome wings was calling him names - inside his head. Dimly he wondered if he had managed to go insane.

“For the first part, it isn’t a name. Well, technically it is, more of a title really. Have you never heard of zahn? Or the Riders?” Kilin shook his head. “I don’t know much of anything, really. You’re the first...person...to speak to me for quite a while.” The creature sounded bewildered. “But you are still a child. Have you no guardians or friends to care for you?”

Memories of his life in the village flashed unbidden through Kilin’s head before he drew himself up proudly. “I’m sixteen years,” he stated firmly. “No longer a child.” The creature looked at him a bit sadly. “No, not a child,” he agreed. “You have not been a child for a long time, have you?” Before Kilin could question what it meant, it went on in what could only be described as a pedantic manner. “I am a zahn. It is a strange thing to me that you do not know what I am, or recognize me by sight. Every child knows what a zahn is. Do you know of the gods, at least?” Kilin nodded. “Well that’s something, I guess. I suppose the easiest way to describe zahn then would be younger cousins of the gods. We are divine, if not strictly immortal. All zahn are destined to find a Rider with whom to bond for eternity, through life and death. You are destined to bond with me, but because I am,” and here the zahn sounded extremely proud, “who I am, you will be far more than just a Rider. You will be zahntir, Captain and Ruler of all zahn and Riders. It is a position of great honor and power!” the zahn finished rather impressively. He blinked, and added, “Oh, and my name is Niilk.” Kilin opened his mouth. Then shut it. Then opened it again. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kilin,” he managed before falling over in a faint. Niilk made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snicker. “That wasn’t quite the response I anticipated. Oh well.” He levitated Kilin’s unconscious body onto his back, then took off, still snickering. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Meta is fun (when you're a priest)

Gwaed

So I've been coloring a little again...

Not too far from here

"Somebody's down to their last dime

Somebody's running out of time

Not too far from here

Somebody's got nowhere else to go

Somebody needs a little hope

Not too far from here

And I may not know their name

But I'm praying just the same

That you'll use me, Lord, 

To wipe away the tears

'Cause somebody's crying

Not too far from here

Somebody's troubled and confused

Somebody's got nothing left to lose

Not too far from here

Somebody's forgotten how to trust

And somebody's dying for love

Not too far from here

It may be a stranger's face

But I'm praying for your grace

To move in me and take away the fear

'Cause somebody's hurting

Not too far from here

Help me, Lord, not to turn away from pain

Help me not to rest while those around me weep

Give me your strength and compassion

When somebody finds the road of life too steep

Somebody's troubled and confused

Somebody's got nothing left to lose

Not too far from here

Somebody's forgotten how to trust

And somebody's dying for love

Not too far from here

Now I'm letting my guard

And I'm opening my heart

Help me speak your love to every needful ear

Someone is waiting

Not too far from here

Someone is waiting

Not too far from here

Not too far from here"

~"Not Too Far From Here" sung by Michael Crawford

Dear Death

Dear Death,

We're old friends, you and I. I've walked and flirted and danced with you but you've yet to take me home with you. Instead you leave me here with Life. Do you know what he does to me, Death? The tortures he pains me with, the horrors he's inflicted on me? Why must you leave me here with Life? He has tormented me nonstop for years. Each day he makes me long more and more for your embrace, my dear friend. Why do you withhold your sweet rest from me? When will you allow me to run into your arms? Life says that I must remain here with him until he is ready to release me, but I know you can override his wishes if you so desire. Even I could override his wishes if I but had enough courage. I think that I will have that courage soon. Soon I will be clasped in your waiting arms, sweet Death, and leave this wretched Life behind forever.

Yours,
Threnody

Note: no freaking out, dear readers. The crisis that inspired this missive is past and gone. But upon finding it hiding in my journal I could not but share it with you.

I miss my Worgen DK

This one, while awesome, just isn't the same.

Because it's miraculous when small children believe what you tell them is the truth.

For, Again

For the arms that held me fast
For the memories now past
For the days and sleepless nights
For the tears of wasted fights

For the lack of where to flee
For the worthlessness of me
For the drifting here and there
For the peace that comes so near

For the empty nights of fear
For the road that's never clear
For the love I once possessed
For the Loves I once distressed

For the touches I now lack
For the darkness deep and black
For the love I did not show
For the Son I barely know

For the path trod all alone
For the sins I must atone
For the selfish things I've said
For the always that's now dead

for all these I seek release
for all these I weep tonight
for all these I search for peace
for all these my cries take flight

I look at how much trouble I have giving even my cats enough attention and know my son is in the right place. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, sometimes. It doesn't mean I wish things could have been different. But this is the way things are and I really think that they've turned out as well as can be expected.

I Weep

I weep for memories past
But I do not wish to relive them

I weep for loves discarded
But I do not wish to feel them

I weep for tears shed
But I do not wish to cry them

I weep for dreams replaced
But I do not wish to dream them

I weep for choices made
But I do not wish to repeat them

I weep for chances not taken
But I do not wish to take them

I weep for friendships broken
But I do not wish to repair them

I weep for faith misplaced
But I do not wish to believe

I weep for arms that comforted
But I do not wish to be held

I have a dream...

That when a dk stands at the dungeon entrance and does nothing, my sexuality is not used as an insult.

That when the Alliance is beaten in a bg by the Horde three flags to none they do not claim to be victims of sexual violence.

That when an LFR group wipes on the first boss and half of them leave, the rest don't claim that they were of my sexuality.

I Love <Blank>

Gay

Straight

Bisexual

Pansexual

There's a lot of words to describe one's sexual orientation. But most of them seem to be based not on who we love, but on who we are. And frankly, I find that confusing. Here's why.

I don't know who I am. I was born with a woman's body, and I have identified as a woman for years. Yet something was always just a little bit off with that. It wasn't quite right, it wasn't quite me. And then I finally figure out that hey, I like women! So that makes me gay, right? Well...sort of. Because you see, I don't identify as a woman anymore, not completely. Nor do I identify as a man. I'm neither, something in between with elements of both. So does the word "gay" fit me? I love women, but I'm not quite a woman. The word "straight" definitely doesn't work here. I suppose you could try to shove me into bisexual, but I think we can all agree that's pushing it.

So I think we need a new method of describing ourselves. One that doesn't mean "I'm a woman or a man who likes women or men" but one that simply says "I love <blank>."

Far Far Away

"She passes the days, one after the other
She never sees, she never hears
Counting the hours, her life is a rerun
A series of failures rolled into one

When she was young, she looked to the future
Eyes full of promise heart full of joy
How had the road twisted so harshly
Can these two women be one and the same?

Once she dreamed of romance
Once she imagined she lived in a castle
Once she held the world in her hands
Once was a long time ago
Far far away

How her mind aches, her life's been a hard one
Filled with such sorrow, no girl should know
How her heart aches, she's loved and she's lost
Some say it's better, but she disagrees

Once she dreamed of romance
Once she imagined she lived in a castle
Once she held the world in her hands
Once was a long time ago
Far far away

When she was young she looked to the future
Eyes full of promise, heart full of joy
How had the road twisted so harshly
Can these two women be one and the same?

She passes the day, one after the other
Looking for romance
Far far away"

~Far Far Away by Blackmore's Night

I have not written in nearly a month, and nothing of substance for a month beyond that. I do not apologize for that; after all, this blog, in whatever incarnation, has always been for me, not you. Yet writing is one of my life's purposes. Without words, I wither. So I shall do my best to start writing more.

And down we fall, down the slippery slope into madness, and there is nothing to stop our slide.

Sometimes beauty hurts. I see a lake, a tree, a cake, a girl, and there is so much beauty I have to look away because it just hurts.

I wasn't born with depression. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been better if I had been. Because I remember life before depression. I remember what it felt like to be free. I remember what it felt like to laugh wholeheartedly. I remember what it was like, and my life feels so empty now.